


In which  John blind dates Moriarty by accident

by thecalendarbusiness



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:33:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecalendarbusiness/pseuds/thecalendarbusiness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>prompt given on tumblr by voyeuristicvamp</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Deliverance, Surprises......and bad food.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt given on tumblr by voyeuristicvamp

John hated blind dates, which might very well be an understatement. Never the less, Molly had somehow talked him into going on one with the brother of one of her friends; which didn't concern him too much until he realized that Molly had never met the brother and hadn't seen her friend in months until recently. This led him to panic slightly and tell Molly rather harshly that he wouldn't be set up by her unless one or both of them had me the person he was supposed to go out with-he'd feel more comfortable sharing a dinner table with someone he'd met more than once anyway. Yet here he was, taking one last look in the mirror and walking out the door. Greg had tempted Sherlock with case that 'only he could work on' as a favor, that way he didn't have to worry about Sherlock wanting to tag along or showing up halfway through and ruining things as he undoubtedly would. 

He arrived at Deliverance a half hour early, out of fear that he would get lost and end up making himself look as though he didn't really want to be there; which, as it turns out, he did. He'd been seated for ten minutes when a figure appeared next to him.

"John?" A man's voiced asked quietly, almost nervous and scared. 

John froze in his seat at the sound of another voice he thought he would never hear again, except this one he cared little for and had hoped it would not be heard by his ears again. 

"Hello, Jim." He glanced up at the younger Irishman, trying to keep his face and voice clear of any sign that inside John was panicking with sheer terror at the idea that Moriarty was his date for the night. 

He watched as the 'world's only consulting criminal' moved around the table to take his seat; as he did, John stood out of habit more than politeness. The action brought a smile that more so resembled a smirk than an actual smile but still couldn't really be called a smirk to the Irishman's face. John only stared at him, wondering what exactly it was he was thinking. 

"What do you say we put everything that's happened between us aside for tonight and just enjoy our date? We both ended up at this table together for a reason, why not find out what that reason is?" Jim wasn't smirking or laughing; he was only staring intently at John, one eyebrow slightly raised.

John smiled at the mastermind as "What the hell, why not." flew out of his mouth before he could even think things through. Jim only smiled at him in a way that he'd never seen before-he wasn't mocking or implying he had a leg up in one way or another; he only looked happy and that happiness pushed away any feelings of fear or terror John had left. 

The rest of the evening proved to be the best date John had ever gone on. They chatted nonstop about nothing and everything; from the insanity of London's weather and how awful the food turned out to be to their opinions on Parliament and the Prime Minister-which were quite similar considering the previous notion John had held, which was that he was the complete opposite of Jim. Yet when one stripped Jim of his criminal ways, he was strikingly similar to Sherlock although he came off as very self-confidant more often that Sherlock; which John silently applauded him for, considering how great a feat that was. As they prepared to leave, John noted that they were the last diners left and it looked as though the wait-staff was dying to see them pay their bill and get going. 

Jim insisted on not only paying, but seeing that he made it home alright; which John found somewhat ironic considering that a few months ago the same man was trying to kill him. He felt himself tense up slightly as they approached the apartment, he hadn't told Sherlock that he would be going out nor did he mention the possibility that he would be gone well into the later hours of the night; and if Sherlock spied John with Jim this late at night, there was no telling what might happen. 

"Cold?" Jim smiled and draped an arm around John's shoulders, forcing the two together. 

Though he initially tensed up at the gesture, John quickly relaxed into Jim and smiled lightly; because, although he would admit it to very few people, least of all Sherlock, John had grown very fond of the criminal mastermind over the past several hours and he secretly hoped he would be able to see more of Jim-not as an enemy or a rival, but as a friend. He pulled away slightly from Jim's grasp as they reached the apartment. They both looked at each other for a moment, awkwardly shifting their weight from one foot to the other as both men tried to come up with something to say.

"Jim, I-" John couldn't even finish his thought because the next thing he knew, Jim was closing the space between them, pressing their lips together and shoving John up against the wall. He was so dumbfounded by the initial shock that he didn't think to react until Jim had already pulled away. Without even thinking, John grabbed the younger man by the neck and pulled him back towards him. Jim's lips eagerly met his with a smile and both men let their hands explore the torso of the other. After a few minutes of heavy kissing, they managed to pull apart for some much needed air. Both men smiled awkwardly at the other as they stood and straightened out their clothes. 

"Goodbye" Jim whispered, kissing John lightly on the cheek and smiling. John smiled and watched him turn to walk away, suddenly feeling too shy to say anything else. 

"Wait!" He called after the Irishman, not caring at all what Sherlock would think in the morning. "How would you like to come up?"

Jim grinned, and John thought that maybe he say a bit of an twinkle in his eye, "I'd love to."


	2. Chapter 2

John awoke with a start. Blinking rapidly, he stood and slowly turned-a part of him hoping that Moriarty, no Jim, had left in the night and to his relief the bed was empty. His groggily trotted down the stairs to grab the morning paper; as he opened the paper, his relief grew for the date reveled that it had all been a dream. He muttered to himself as he returned to the flat with a smile, figuring his nerves had gotten the better of his subconscious and caused the dream to occur. Humming to himself, he set the paper on the table before putting a kettle on the stove and fixing himself a cuppa.

For the rest of the day, he felt unusually...well, chipper for a lack of a better word. Sherlock, of course, noticed instantly and insisted on prodding John relentlessly until he was given a reason he was satisfied with which John knew wouldn't happen so instead of satisfying his friend with a response he denied it ferociously; this of course made Sherlock even more irritable and sent John back into his usual mood-as far as Sherlock could tell anyway. Like any other day spent with Sherlock, it flew by and was rather uneventful by their standards and this, of course, sent Sherlock into one of his moods where he sat in his chair, playing his violin for hours without a word. This worked in John's favor, giving him the space he needed from Sherlock to get ready without being delayed or dragged out on some sudden adventure-causing him to cancel on whoever it was he was to be dining with later. 

It took John exactly thirty minutes early to get ready and although he was a half hour ahead of the evening's timeline he'd set up for himself, he decided to leave early. Sherlock's mood had proved itself to be one of his worse ones and John just didn't think he could stand to be in the same flat as the detective for another minute-it was making him nervous, more nervous than he already was. 

"I'm going out, gotta date. Don't wait up." When Sherlock didn't reply, John grabbed his coat and walked out the door-taking the man's silence as a sign his mood hadn't improved any in the last half hour. 

It wouldn't be a cold evening had it not been for a slight wind coming in from the coast. Nevertheless, John wandered aimlessly for a while before heading to the restaurant wondering to himself if the food was as awful as he ha dreamed it to be and hoping that it wasn't, and also pondering as to whom he would be dining with in reality. He was feeling perfectly content with himself, almost giddy, right until he walked into the restaurant. Sitting right in view of the door, by himself surrounded by nothing but empty tables was none other than the very son of a bitch he'd hoped he wouldn't see. Moriarty. 

Without even thinking, he stormed over to the table. "The hell do you think you're doing here!!!" John was fuming, his face getting hotter by the second.

"On a date.....well, waiting for one actually." His tone was so calm and cool, it sent chills down John's spine. He almost felt as if he couldn't move, granted Moriarty seemed as if he was the person to usually have that effect on a person. 

"I shouldn't really say waiting. Since you're here. So sit." He was smirking now, one eyebrow slightly cocked as if he knew something John didn't but desperately wanted to. It made him sick.

"Why should I? You tried to kill me, and my friend-don't tell me you've forgotten." 

The younger man's face darkened the second the phrase escaped John's lips and John was suddenly feeling very, very cold. 

"Sit. Now." John felt as if he was being pulled into his seat by an ice pick as he slid into the chair across from the criminal.

The rest of the evening went on in similar fashion, though John found himself warming up to the criminal's personality and-though he could be mistaken, as Moriarty was quite clever, the younger man seemed to be warming up to him too. He hated to admit it, but John had been taking an interest in the man seeing how strikingly similar he was to Sherlock even though neither men would ever admit it nor would John ever say so in the presence of either of them. He also found himself drawn to the way the younger man movements and how they eerily mirrored so many of Sherlock's.

Several times Jim caught John simply staring at him and not responding to their crossfire of a conversation and every time he expected some sort of snide remark but he only got a smile instead which he found odd coming from the criminal. Yet, as the evening progressed further he noticed lulls forming in the conversation where both men were simply staring at each other for a few moments before slowly coming back into reality. It seemed to John that his dream was proving true as of late, perhaps slightly more hostile than what his had subconscious had dreamed up but still true nevertheless. As they stood to leave, John realized that they hadn't even bothered to eat at all. Feeling guilty, he slipped a few notes onto the table for their waiter whom, he realized after further though, John hadn't even been aware of and suddenly realized that they probably hadn't even had a waiter. 

They wandered the city aimlessly, arguing various sides of the current political debates and the studies published in the most recent medical journals. John was in awe of just how aware Jim seemed to be of the world; he's clearly a genius with a head full of the most complex things but unlike Sherlock, he had enough room in the genius, psychotic brain of his to be as aware of every political, medical and social issue as the top annalist in any and all of the given fields. For a moment, John wished that there was some way he could study the daily workings of Jim's life but he shook it off; he couldn't even understand Sherlock, what made him think he could understand his polar opposite. 

They stumbled onto Baker Street right around 1am, John was exhausted seeing as their date was at a quarter past seven. He sincerely hoped Sherlock hadn't decided to wait up for him, or ask Mrs. Hudson to do so. He didn't want to be a bother to his dear landlady and he especially didn't want to be caught out with Jim by Sherlock. Who knew what kind of rage the sight of the other would send both men into. 

John paused outside 221, trying to find words fitting enough to end the night on but before he could, Jim closed the space between them-pressing his pale lips to John's just long enough to get a response from the doctor before pulling away and disappearing into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic since I was in eight grade, so I'm a little rusty. I'm very open to criticism so please do fire away if you think I need it.


End file.
